


Page Thirteen

by Oriole T (inamac)



Category: Pulaski
Genre: Humour, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/Oriole%20T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Larry Summers discovers <i>Pulaski</i> slash fanfiction, and Paula deals with the fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Page Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> **Explanation:** _Pulaski_ is a 'play-within-a-play' show, hence the characters listed in the pairings are not those involved in the plot of this story.  
> **Warning:** A page of PWP followed by rather too much period (1987) drama. Some older slash writers may find this embarrassing.  
> **Note:** This isn't exactly written from life, but I suspect someone will recognise a stereotype - no real fen were harmed in the making of this fic. Also, the porn is quite intentionally OTT (hopefully)

# Page Thirteen

_mouth closed over his engorged cock. Pulaski's slim hips rose, forcing himself down the long throat that convulsed at the slick, hard length of him, swallowed him into pulsing, heady, exquisite climax that seemed to go on and on for hours... days... aeons.. up and up, higher and higher. He hardly felt his buttocks arch from the bed, the hands that cupped them, supporting him, holding him in that pumping, pulsing warmth until long after his seed was spent, swallowed and licked by the withdrawing tongue._

_The next sensation of which he was aware was the touch of that tongue on his as his lover's returned what he had taken in a long, open-mouthed kiss that would never have been allowed on prime-time TV. In fact..._

_"There ought to be a law against this," he murmured into the other man's ear, as soon as his mouth was freed._

_"There is," Anthony agreed. "In fact, 'swhat makes it so exciting." His voice was not steady and something more than excitement was reflected in the dark eyes that met Pulaski's own. The ex-priest recognised the need, turned slightly to ease the hand on which his partner was lying and ran it down over his sweating flesh, along his flank and into the patch of dark pubic hair and the hot, hard cock that arose from it._

_"Can't have you left behind," he said, closing his hand around it and pulling gently. The organ pulsed, filled his hand as its owner's broad hands, still clamped on Pulaski's buttocks, squeezed, pulling the cheeks apart._

_The reaction might have been involuntary on Anthony's part, they were both far too aroused to be thinking coherently, but whatever the impetus Pulaski's response was immediate. His_

 

*****

 

The door crashed open so hard that it rocked on its hinges and nearly rebounded into the path of the infuriated actor who had kicked it open.

Paula Wilson put a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone into which she had been speaking, looked up for long enough to realise that whatever had brought Larry careering into her office wasn't going to be waved into silence easily and closed the conversation with a brief "Something's come up. I'll call you back."

As she dropped the receiver onto its cradle the actor slammed a piece of paper onto the desk beside it with a force that made the instrument jump.

"If that's the sodding lawyer you'd better call him back right now! I want the guts of whoever was responsible for this filth. I want them taken for every damn penny they've got. I want the perverted bastard hung out to dry!"

"Calm down, Larry. What is all this about?"

Far from calming down, the angry man started pacing the length of the office. "My reputation!" he fumed, "slander. Libel. Pornography. You can probably get 'em for breach of copyright too..."

With the ease of long experience the executive producer mentally relegated the ranting of her temperamental star to the status of background noise while she scanned the piece of paper which appeared to have caused the outburst.

It was a photocopied A4 sheet of closely typed text, and therefore not a page of script which was what normally prompted this sort of outburst. Possibly a story outline, since the name _Pulaski_ appeared on the first line. If so it was something from the slush pile since it had only been typed single-spaced and was splattered with corrections...

Two sentences in she realised that this was something that would never make it to the screen. Larry was quite right. It was pornographic. And it was not, to Paula, totally unexpected - or unwelcome.

A _Pulaski_ slash story.

In one sense, at least the series had arrived, although she had rather hoped that this sort of material could have been kept from her temperamental star, at least until the season had wrapped filming.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was on the third floor photocopier. Some perverted queer in Contracts is copying this filth. Probably jerking off to it in the bloody men's room. Christ..." he paused, scowling at a clearly unpleasant mental picture, "...the fucking voyeur has probably been taking notes every time I go for a leak. I want him fired. I want him prosecuted. I want his balls..."

"Larry," said Paula, for the third time, "SIT. DOWN."

He stopped, closed his mouth and sat in Pavlovian response to a Directorial command. In the sudden, sulky silence Paula pressed her intercom button.

"Emmie, would you page for whoever left some personal, confidential material on the third floor photocopier and ask them to step into my office. And get Elaine Kessler on the phone."

Larry recognised the name and pouted as she cut the intercom. "I told you, we need a lawyer, not a bloody script editor." His eyes widened suddenly as a thought occurred. "You're not gonna write this stuff in? I'll quit. I'll sue..."

"Oh be quiet, Larry. Nobody's accused you of anything. It's just another _Pulaski_ story. And I've told you before: You - Are - Not - Pulaski. You haven't, for one thing, got his brains."

"Yeah? Well I've got his prick an' I'm not having..."

A nervous knock on the inner office door briefly silenced the tirade. Paula shot another 'be quiet' look at him before raising her voice. "Come in."

The door was opened by a dumpy, dark-haired woman in her early thirties. She was wearing a nondescript but smart brown blouse and skirt and fiddling with a string of multicoloured beads around her neck. "Miss Wilson? Er, about that page on the photocopier. I..." Her darting, nervous gaze met Larry's and she stopped, blushed bright red to the roots of her hair and gave a strangled little whimper. "Oh God..."

"I assume, from that reaction, that this _is_ yours?" said Paula, proffering the now rather tattered page.

"Well, yes. I... I mean.... not exactly. I didn't... I was making a copy for me. It... it belongs to... a friend..."

"A female friend?"

"Oh yes. Of course."

Two pairs of equally puzzled eyes were fixed on the producer. She sighed inwardly. Sometimes it was so difficult to be a hard bitch. "Right. I see. Well, you'd better take this. And remember in future that there are restrictions on what personal material can be copied on the Company machines. We can turn a blind eye to the occasional knitting pattern but there _are_ limits. All right. You'd better get back to work."

"Yes Miss Wilson." The woman visibly refrained from curtseying as she took the paper and exited. As the door closed behind her Larry looked at his producer incredulously.

"That's it? You're not even going to sack her? And what about the guy who wrote that... that rubbish?"

"There isn't one," she replied. "Weren't you listening? That is not gay pornography, Larry. It's slash fiction. Written by women, for women. Assuming that you haven't been propositioned here to date, your arse is quite safe in the men's room."

Larry's brow wrinkled. "Women? You mean some dyke bitch wrote that? For kicks?"

Paula sighed. "Possibly. Though it's more likely to have been written by a heterosexual, middle-aged housewife with an overweight husband and a couple of kids. And I am not going to drag the poor woman through the courts just because you think that your precious ego has been bruised. Hauling this out into the open won't do you, or the studio, any favours. Fox hasn't done it. Spelling-Goldberg didn't do it, LWT hasn't done it so I don't see why Steiner should be the first. What do you want Larry? Headlines in _The Sun_? TV PRIEST IN GAY PORN SCANDAL? Think that would improve your precious reputation?"

"But..."

"Look, the best I can do is have a word with Elaine and see whether we can't slip a few lines into the show to make it clear that Pulaski isn't a raving faggot."

"That's all?" He scowled in disbelief.

"That is all. Now," she glanced at her wall chart, "Shouldn't you be in Neasden?"

Fin


End file.
